Left 4 Dead 2: Three Words
by hidden-in-a-tree
Summary: He couldn't save Ellis, just as he couldn't stop the rain from falling or the sun from rising.  All he could do was sit and wait and hold his dying friend's hand. Oneshot. Tragedy. Nick/Ellis. Nick's POV. Slash.


**Author's Note:** I bawled through part of writing this. Take that as a warning, perhaps. I cry over strange things, so this may not be something that would make you cry.

Oneshot. Tragedy. Nick/Ellis. Nick's POV. Slash.

**Disclaimer: **I own none of the characters mentioned.

**Acknowledgements: **Yet again, I'd like to thank Howard Shore for composing something so beautiful and heart-wrenching as 'The Gray Havens' from the _Return of the King_ soundtrack. Just as Gandalf passed on, so do we all.

Thanks to Amanda for reading this. And also a thank you to Sean as well.

**Summary: **He couldn't save Ellis, just as he couldn't stop the rain from falling or the sun from rising. All he could do was sit and wait and hold his dying friend's hand.

**Three Words**

"Wha' … wha' d'you think it's like t' – t' die?" Nick heard Ellis' rasping breath and out of the corner of his eye he saw Ellis lick his parched, split lips with a dry tongue as he spoke. "Please. Somethin'. Anythin'."

Nick still didn't reply. He felt paralyzed, his eyes transfixed on the floor to the right of where Ellis was lying. He gripped his friend's hand. He'd heard people's stories of trying to squeeze the life back into their wounded, dying, or ill loved one, and he knew it was stupid, foolhardy, ridiculous, but all the same he squeezed as hard as he could. Ellis didn't complain.

Both of them were just inside the door of the safe house. It was pouring outside, a torrent of cold droplets were striking the metal roof of their domain loudly, violently. Lightning cracked across the swollen clouds and thunder roared immediately afterwards. Flash after flash with barrages of sound that shook the walls following shortly after.

Exhaustion. Malnutrition. Dehydration. Illness that resulted from poor sanitation. An untreated chest cold. It could've been any of those things – it could've been all of them. None of that mattered.

Nick could feel Ellis' hand twitching as the twenty-three year old –

_(twenty-three. He'd always be twenty-three. It was strange how people always imagined themselves getting older – how they always thought it odd that one day they'd be those little old people behind the steering wheels of the vehicles that went so slow, and yet some of them would never make it that far in life)_

– shivered. His whole body trembled and shook. With one hand, the older man took off the jacket of his white suit and draped it over his friend despite the fact that he knew it would do no good. He tucked it in with his free right hand, trying not to feel how thin Ellis was, how his bones poked out through his clothing.

"Nick …" Ellis pleaded, begged, his voice scarcely a whisper. He was afraid, terrified of moving on, scared of what could lie behind the curtain of this world.

Nick's tongue felt swollen inside his mouth. He swallowed a few times, his throat constricting as he finally looked down at his friend's face. The pinched skin, the dull eyes, the enflamed cheeks, the protruding cheekbones, the bleeding lips. Ellis' jaw was shaking from side to side and tears were collecting around the outer edges of his brown eyes.

"It'll be just like falling asleep," Nick whispered hoarsely, wishing his voice would strengthen. He needed Ellis to believe him. He needed to sound confident. "You'll close your eyes and then – just like Gandalf said during the siege of Minas Tirith – you'll see white shores, green grass. A new life for you to experience where there'll be no more pain, no more sickness. Maybe Ro and Coach will be there. But for you to get there you have to be – you have to be strong," Nick choked out, losing his own strength. He held his breath for a few seconds, blinked furiously, and clenched his jaw. A sob almost escaped him when Ellis squeezed his hand back, using what little physical force he had left to let Nick know that it was okay.

Ellis was fucking dying and he was the one comforting Nick.

"Did – did y' ever read Stephen King's Desperation?" Ellis inquired, his voice scratchy and weak. Nick just shook his head, not trusting his voice. Their hands were still clamped together; the thirty-five year old could feel his friend's heartbeat through their point of contact. Ellis turned his head to the right and coughed feebly before saying, "One thing I got outta tha' book was tha' dyin' is easy, bein' left behind ain't. I also learned tha' God's cruel." His eyes focused intensely on Nick's. "Never believed it, really. Always thought God was merciful. Now I – now I now he ain't."

Ellis' face scrunched up and flushed even more as his chest shook with sobs. The cracks in his lips that were once tiny streams of red became rivers, spilling blood into his mouth, turning his once-white teeth an orange-like color.

"I – I'm sorry, Nick. I'm so fuckin' sorry."

No tears – no crying – not now. Now was the end. There would be time later, Nick told himself, willed himself. "For what?" he finally asked, forcing it out as if something had been lodged in his throat. Ellis could only shake his head, his sobs coming on too strong for him to speak. Nick repositioned his body so that he was near Ellis' head and used his right hand to pull the younger man into a sitting position. He did it with ease, like Ellis was just a child or that he was made of nothing more than very thin paper – something that could be blown away easily, taken without a fight. He hugged Ellis from behind, his free hand thrown over his friend's shoulder and clutching at his thin waist. He didn't want to let go – he couldn't let go. He dug his fingernails deeper into Ellis' body through the white suit jacket and the mechanic jumpsuit.

In between harsh sobs that were intermittent with coughing, Ellis replied: "For leavin' you behind. For not bein' able to fight this. For bein' weak. For – for givin' up," and with that, he was howling in grief and agony, his hand going slack in Nick's. All the older man could do was stay where he was, on his knees with his body holding Ellis up. He put his left ear on Ellis' shoulder, giving him as much emotional support as he could.

Finally, Nick said, his words muffled as he spoke into Ellis' back, "No, Ellis, you never gave up. You – you got beaten. That's just how it goes sometimes. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can't win. It doesn't matter if you gave it your all, your number was up. You didn't give in."

"You're wrong," Ellis finally mumbled, his voice thick with mucus and tears. "I did. I gave up. Even 'fore Ro 'n' Coach died. I asked God t' just put me outta m' misery." His voice started to rise to a hysterical note, the downpour from his eyes picking up force again. "I – I never knew He'd –" he stopped, coughed forcefully a few times, and continued to bawl. Nick waited, unaware of the moisture softly falling on to Ellis' shirt from his own eyes. That was all he could do. Sit and wait for time to run out.

After he'd gotten himself under control again, Ellis continued: "I never knew He'd do this – take me 'way when we were th' only two left. When you needed me. When I – I needed you. I'm scared of dyin' – I haven't been a good person – but I'm more scared of not bein' with you. I won't be able t' talk to you or look at you or make you laugh or hear you yell or anythin'. I'll be gone. How the fuck am I s'posed to jus' – jus' close m' eyes and drift off when you're still here, when you're still alive an' I – I won't be. It's fucking unfair. Fuck God. Fuck the world. An' – an' fuck me for not knowin' that some prayers get answered."

The safe house was dead silent. The tears continued to quietly roll down both men's cheeks as they remained motionless, waiting for something to be said. Ellis wondered if he'd said too much –

_(fuck that too. I won't be 'round long 'nough for regrets)_

– and Nick tried to take in all the information. He didn't know what to say. Instead of trying to put his confused thoughts into words – he was afraid they may get lost somewhere as they travelled from his heart to his brain to his tongue and vocal cords – he just tightened his hold on the younger man's waist and hand.

Ellis' breathing was slowing. His body relaxing.

Nick resisted the urge to shout, to shake him, to constrain him from going down the road that Nick couldn't follow. Soon he would be alone. It wouldn't be Ellis he was holding hands with. It would be just a body, a shell. Ellis would've passed on, moving past the carnage and misery without being able to stop. The thirty-five year old's hands started to shake.

_God please don't make me let go of him I can't I won't there's no way I'd be able to live in a world where I can't see the fucking sun without him there's nothing here for me anymore please God PLEASE._

Nick started to make whimpering noises. He couldn't help it. These were the last moments he'd be able to hear Ellis' cheerful voice or feel the warmth from his skin or smell that aroma that was purely him – the man that was the world to him.

"Ellis," he said, the name catching slightly. The younger man didn't stir. "Ellis, I'm – please, please still be here enough to be able to hear me." No response. He couldn't feel a pulse any longer and his eyes were too blurred to see if Ellis' neck throbbed as the carotid artery expanded and contracted as blood was pushed through. He held his breath to listen for breathing, and it was there, a faint whistling in and out.

"I hope you can hear me. I know you're sorry that you're moving on and I'm not. You'll be somewhere beyond the pain I'll feel whenever I'll think about you. Just – just know that I love you. I do. Even with your stupid Keith stories and how you'd risk your life to go back for your hat and even with the horrendous amount of snoring you'd do during the night. I don't blame you for anything. Don't die thinking that this could've been prevented, 'cause odds are it couldn't've. That's all beside the point. Right now, all I want is for the last words you hear to be I love you. "

Silence.

_Please God let him have heard, let him know. _

Still no response, and he could no longer hear Ellis breathing.

Ellis' fingers curled around Nick's warm hand, and he applied a light pressure, just so Nick could feel it.

Ellis passed on sometime during the night. Nick didn't know when exactly. Every so often he'd repeat those three words into Ellis' ear and the younger man would always squeeze Nick's hand to acknowledge that he was still there, still hanging on. Nick knew it was all for him. Ellis could've stopped fighting long ago but he didn't. He suffered and toughed it out so Nick didn't have to be alone any sooner than he absolutely had to.

Each time Ellis tightened his grip, Nick's heart broke a little more. He wanted Ellis to just go – to end the needless suffering, but he didn't. He couldn't. He loved that Goddamn son of a bitch and he didn't know how he'd go on without him.

How does one go on when what little happiness in their lives is gone? When the one person they truly loved – loved unconditionally – would do anything for – is beyond their reach? Nick knew that when he left the safe house, he'd have to remove Ellis' body and dump it somewhere. Just leave it on the street for the animals to eat, like that body didn't mean anything, like it didn't once house what was left of his heart.

He'd said 'I love you' eighteen times to Ellis over the course of hours. After the nineteenth, Ellis didn't respond.


End file.
